


The Spinner's Rival

by Ethereal_Wishes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-10 21:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes
Summary: Spinner Rumple has been the sole spinner in his village for years until Belle moves to town, upping the competition. As much as he loathes her for causing his decline in sales, he can't help but long to know her, which reveals there's more to her than meets the eye, and he finds himself forging a deal with her that'll change their lives forever.





	1. Chapter 1

The Spinner's Rival: Part One

A/AN: Just a little something which popped in my head. I'm not sure about how long this will be, but prompts are welcome!

Rumpelstiltskin glared at the busy stall across the bustling square. Selling his wares in his home village had never been a problem until she'd moved to town. He was the sole spinner in their quaint village until she'd shown up, pretty and blue eyed. She had the male populace swooning and eating out of her hand, and she never went home with any extra goods. She always managed to sell out before noon. She'd pack up her stall, saddle her old tan mare, and head for home, while he'd still be left, struggling to sell the rest of his threads.

Rumpelstiltskin still managed to make a meager wage, but having the extra competition had set him back. This continued on for weeks, and sometimes he thought of speaking with her, passing by her stall to see if her thread was of better quality than his, but his pride wouldn't allow it. Sometimes she'd catch him stealing a glance at her, and she would wave friendlily at him. He'd always divert his gaze and pretend he hadn't seen her.

It was a dreary day, and there weren't many venders at the market. He'd expected to see her, but she wasn't there. He decided to blame it on the weather, opting to not become too suspicious of her absence, but when she didn't show up the following week, he became concerned.

As he made his way home that afternoon, he decided to stop by her residence. He'd checked with the baker's wife Matilda about where she lived, but she didn't easily volunteer that bit of information without the offer of some green thread, which he reluctantly parted with. He wasn't sure why he was so troubled about his rival, but his mind wouldn't rest until he made sure she was okay.

He released the anxious breath he was holding as he raised his hand up to knock on her door. Running away crossed his mind when he heard soft footfalls swiftly approaching. She opened the door, and he realized it was too late to abandon his mission.

"Hello?" she rasped, glancing at him quizzically.

"Hello, I'm Rumpelstiltskin. I noticed you haven't been at the market in a couple of weeks, and I became concerned for your welfare. Are you alright?" The spinner introduced himself, attempting to conceal the timidity in his voice.

"I'm afraid I've fallen ill. I've barely left the hovel, for fear of making it worse. The physician says I should stay inside and not to venture out in public," she answered. She was sickly and pale, and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't fathom why he was so uptight about her well being, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He offered, wondering what sort of enchantment she'd placed upon him.

"Well, if it isn't too much trouble, I do have some wares which I need to sell at market. This illness has prevented me from meeting my monthly quota, and I have various expenses which will need to be paid by the month's end," she supplied, opening the door wider, granting him entry.

"It isn't any trouble at all. I'll help you any way I can." His tongue betrayed him before his brain had time to object. It seemed this spintress had him eating out of her hand too.

"I'm afraid you haven't told me your name yet," he said, unable to quell his tongue from spouting more nonsense.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry! How rude of me! My name's Belle," she smiled radiantly at him, sending a wave of heat coursing through his abdomen.

"It's no matter, and it's a pleasure to meet you," he reassured her. He glanced around the hovel, noting the makeshift pallet settled by the hearth. A large black iron pot hung above it, and it simmered with something hearty. Her hovel was constructed just as the others he'd seen throughout the years. What stood out the most was the spinning wheel settled in the center of the one room shack.

"Here are the threads I need you take to market for me. I'd be obliged to pay you for your troubles," she offered, wringing her hands on her skirts demurely.

"That won't be necessary, Belle. I can assure you it's no trouble," he responded, politely declining the offer.

"Well, I thank you kindly for your help. Since I moved here, I can't say I've truly made any friends," she revealed, catching him by surprise.

"But, how? Your stall is always bustling with customers, and you seem to sell out before anyone else!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Just because you make a sell doesn't mean you make a connection with that person. It's strictly business after all. Do you have any friends, Rumpelstiltskin?" she interrogated, her gaze was intense and slightly intimidating.

"I can't say I have," he remarked dryly, averting his gaze to the hearth.

"Then perhaps we should change that. You're the only person who cared enough to check on me, so I'd say that constitutes as something," she smiled, clasping his hand in her own. His heart thrummed heavily against his chest from her close proximity.

"How about you stay for dinner?" she inquired, gesturing towards the boiling pot.

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid I must be heading home. I have much to attend to before the next market day," he politely declined.

She nodded in understanding, a look of disappointment flickering across her gaze. "I bid you farewell then, Rumpelstiltskin."

"I'll come by and collect your wares when I return to market in a couple of days," he told her.

"I'll see you then," she returned, seeing him to the door. As the door shut behind her, Rumpelstiltskin secretly wished he'd stayed for dinner. Despite their business rivalry, he longed to know her. He could only hope he was granted another opportunity, one he swore he wouldn't squander the next time.

~X~

The next two days passed by in a blur. Rumpelstiltskin caught his mind drifting to the beautiful brunette each time he took a break from spinning. She'd enraptured him in her spell it seemed, and he was no different than the other inhabitants of the village. He arrived at her hovel early that morning, ready to collect her supplies.

Belle opened the door, smiling warmly at him. "Good morning, Rumpelstiltskin. How are fairing?"

"I'm fairing well, and how are you? Are you feeling better?" He inquired, genuinely worried for her well being.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you kindly for asking, however I'm still not well enough for market day. Won't you come inside?" she stated invitingly, holding open the door for him.

"I'd be obliged," he nodded formally, accepting her invitation. She opened the door. Her spools of vibrant thread sat by the door, waiting to be loaded onto his cart.

"Those are my wares by the door. I prepared some herbal tea for you this morning. Would you like a cup?" she asked, offering him the porcelain mug of piping hot tea.

"Yes, I'd certainly appreciate it," he supplied, taking the proffered cup from her. He brought the cup to his lips, relishing the feeling of the tepid liquid cascading down his throat. He handed her the cup, grateful for her thoughtful gesture.

"Well, I must be heading out. I'll drop by this afternoon and bring you your profits," he said, gathering various bolts of fabric in his arms.

"I'm eternally grateful for your hospitality, Rumpelstiltskin," she praised him, gifting him with a brilliant smile which sent his heart aflutter.

"It's no matter. It's what any decent fellow would do," he returned, his cheeks discoloring from her continued thanksgiving. She perched against the egress as he loaded his wagon.

"Yes, and those are few and far between I've learned," she added, her eyes slightly melancholy, and he wondered if she'd been cruelly betrayed by another as he had. Images of his ex-wife writhing beneath the pirate captain's body in their bed sent a wave of nausea spiraling through him. He gripped the wagon to steady his nerves.

"I'll see you this afternoon," he called to her, clenching his jaw in attempt to stave off the unwanted memory. He mounted his gray mare and set his sights on the road which led to the market square. He heard her mumble a goodbye as his horse trotted away from the hovel. Rumpelstiltskin set up his wares as usual, making sure to separate their goods into opposite piles. The day passed by in a blur, and as five o'clock rolled around, he decided to call it a day. They'd both done fairly well with their profits, and he hoped she was pleased with the amount of earnings he'd collected for her.

He parked his horse and cart by her hovel. He sauntered to her front door, knocking lightly. After several knocks, there was still no answer. Becoming concerned, he pushed open the door to find her laying on the floor in a heap.

"Belle!" he hollered, rushing to her aid. He felt for her pulse point, sighing in relief. She wasn't dead, but she was burning up with fever. He hoisted her into his arms, and lay her on the pallet beside the dying hearth. He couldn't just leave her alone, so he traipsed back outside to quickly unload his wagon. He brought the extra spools of thread inside and led his horse to the lone stable behind her shack where it contentedly grazed with Belle's tan mare. The soft bleating of sheep filled his ears, and he noted the five shorn sheep in the pasture.

He rolled up his sleeves as he traipsed back inside. She was still unconscious as he grabbed an empty pail and proceeded to carry it halfway into the woods to fill it with cold water from the creek. He stalked back to the hovel. He found some scraps of linen in one of her cupboards, and dipped one into the cool water. He bent down beside her on the floor, dabbing her face lightly. She stirred in her sleep, opening her eyes hazily.

"Rumplestiltskin?" she rasped.

"Yes, I'm here, Belle. You collapsed, so I put you to bed. You're burning up with fever," he explained.

"The physician said I was healing properly, but I suppose I've relapsed," she coughed heavily.

"Shh. Don't speak. Let me take care of you," he commanded in his soothing brogue.

"Why would you do that? You barely know me," she muttered, her eyes growing leaden with sleep.

"Because that's what friends do for each other," he answered, starling himself with his confession. She smiled weakly at him before dozing back off.

Rumpelstiltskin was no healer, but he did know a few things about dealing with the afflicted. He'd tended to the aunts who'd raised him as they laid dying on their death beds. Rumpelstiltskin spent the remainder of the night sitting by her bedside. He made her a kettle of herbal tea mixed with honey to ease her sore throat and to stifle her coughing. Her fever broke sometime during the early morning hours, and for that, he was thankful.

He continued to watch over her as the day progressed, and she mostly slept until late in the evening. She awoke to find the spinner busily stirring the pot over the hearth. She inhaled the decadent scent of vegetable stew. A smile tugged at her lips, and she wondered if he'd discovered her vegetable garden out back.

"Rumplestiltskin?" she called out his name hesitantly.

The spinner averted his gaze towards the beauty. "Did you sleep well? Are you feeling better?" he inquired, kneeling down beside her. She shuddered, her breath hitching in her throat as he touched her brow lightly to check for fever.

"You're not warm. Are you hungry? I made some stew from the few potatoes and leaks I found in your garden out back. I hope that was okay," he stammered.

"It's more than okay. I'm eternally grateful for all of your help. There must be some way I can repay you," she insisted, forcing herself to sit up.

"There is one way I can think of, but it isn't with coin. I want to know who you truly are, Belle. You're well past the marrying age, and I can't fathom why you haven't taken a husband since moving here. It doesn't make any sense," he retorted, his gaze calculating.

She felt her gut clench with bile from his request. She'd never dispelled her true origins to anyone, and moving here had spared from from the scrutiny she'd faced back home. Rumpelstiltskin had been generous to her though, and he had nothing to gain from her fall from high society.

"Why does it matter? Perhaps my choice not to marry are my own reasons," she countered, hoping he dropped the painful subject.

"Yesterday when you told me I was a decent fellow, your eyes betrayed you. I can tell when someone has been subjected to a life full of loss and pain. You're no exception," he admonished, sympathy flickering in his sable depths, so warm and inviting.

"And, what will you do with the information, spinner? Will you tell the whole village, forcing me to move elsewhere?" she contested.

"No. You have my word," he vowed, bowing solemnly.

"Fine..." She consented, grounding her teeth together in frustration.

"If you must know, I was engaged to be married once to a wealthy nobleman. My father was a merchant by trade and had provided me with the best education. My mother descended from a life of peasantry, and she spun for a living. When she married my father, she continued doing it as a hobby, and taught me only because I begged her," she smiled, fondly remembering her mother. He found her breathtakingly beautiful as she expressed her love for her trade.

Belle sucked in a deep breath, hesitantly continuing. "One night my fiance became very drunk, and he barged into my room. He crawled into bed with me. I tried to scream, but no one heard my cries. I pleaded with him to stop as he had his way with me, but it was too late. When he'd done the deed, he rolled off of me, and pulled up his trousers. He turned back around, called me a whore and spat in my face. He stalked out of my room, and I wept until I'd fallen back asleep. He left town the next day, but not before bragging to everyone about how he'd nailed the merchant's daughter. He broke off our engagement, but no man wants a soiled bride, so I was left without a suitor. I tried to tell my parent's the truth, but they didn't believe me. I was tired of being miserable, so I left home two months ago in the middle of the night with the clothes on my back, and with what little coin I could find. I stole one of my father's horses, and my mother's spinning wheel which I hauled in the back of my wagon. I rode seven days until I came to this place. The rent was affordable, and I managed to use what money I had to purchase a few sheep and the furnishings I needed for my home," she revealed, causing Rumpelstiltskin's stomach to knot with fury.

"I'm so sorry, Belle...I cannot imagine how unfair it must have been for you to have to uproot your entire life and start anew," he spoke, clasping her hand gently in his own.

"I don't understand...You're supposed to call me a harlot and storm out right about now," she said, her eyes filled with skepticism.

"What happened wasn't your fault. You know that, right?" he inquired, gazing into her azure depths.

"That's not what I've been told. They claimed I provoked him, and I was the reason he left." Her voice was so fragile, he thought she might break.

"They're all a bunch of damned fools then!" he hissed through his teeth in vexation.

"I'm afraid I wasn't completely honest with you about my illness, Rumpelstiltskin. I'm also with child," she clenched her eyes shut, unable to face the shame etched across his weathered features. Her breath hitched in her throat when she felt his nimble digits delicately caressing her face.

Belle daringly opened her eyes. His gaze was tender, and his eyes reflected understanding, instead of the condemnation which she'd expected. "I have a proposition for you, Belle," the spinner said, placing a kiss to the underside of her wrist, causing her insides to somersault.

"I'm listening..." She paused, waiting for him to speak.

"Marry me," he proposed. Her mouth gaped open from his astonishing offer. She gazed into his sable depths, searching for the deceit, but she only found sincerity.

"I don't understand, what would you have to gain from this? I'm impure and-"

He placed his index finger to her lips, halting her berating. "Because you've been dealt an unfair hand in life, and as I grow older, I find myself desiring a family more than anything. I don't expect our relationship to be anything but platonic, but two are better than one. It's hard to make it in this world alone, and I'd like to find a semblance of happiness before I pass. I know it won't be a typical marriage full of love as I'm sure you've been expecting, but I can take care of you, and your child," he vowed, averting his gaze to her flat abdomen which would ripen with child in the months to come.

Her heart involuntarily fluttered in her chest as she listened to his devout confession. He wasn't the sort of future she'd pictured for herself, but perhaps he was what she needed. He would provide her with security, and they could have a comfortable life if they worked together.

"I'll marry you, Rumpelstiltskin," she obliged, knowing deep down she'd made the right decision for herself and her child.

A/AN: Prompts are welcome...


	2. Chapter 2

The Spinner's Rival: Part Two

A/AN: I've had multiple prompts already, and I thank you all kindly. This chapter will include the wedding requested by Grace, sharing their first cup of yea by Vermillionflycatcher, and awkward bed sharing just because ;)

Rumpelstiltskin stumbled into his hovel. He hadn't the faintest idea what had possessed him to propose. There were dozens of young women in the village who were in need of rescuing, so why was he so determined to be Belle's savior? He could have already remarried years ago, because fathers were eager to arrange marriages between their daughters and men who had a steady trade, no matter how old. He was nearing forty, his new-wife-to-be just shy of twenty. He chuckled dryly at the irony of wedding his business rival. He'd expressed his most vulnerable parts to her, his longing for companionship and a child. Helping out someone in need was one thing, and that's all he'd ever intended to do for her. He'd expected to gain nothing more than a casual acquaintance, but tomorrow that would all change. She would become his wife and he her husband. He sat on his workbench, laying his head in his hands as he mulled over this problematic situation he'd created.

He could march back to her homestead right now and call the whole thing off, merely excusing it as a slip of the tongue. However, he knew it wasn't probable. There was no going back. The way she'd looked at him, fear flashing in her azure depths as she relayed the tale of the tragedy which had befallen her. He'd tenderly cupped her cheek in his weathered palm, knowing he had to help her. A desolate woman was one thing, but an unwed maiden carrying another man's bastard was another. She would never survive on her own without the means of another. Without knowing the truth, the village would shun her for falling into debauchery. Belle had been subjected to such unfair cruelty, and he had the means to fix it. His honor wouldn't allow him to betray her. They would wed, and he would provide her a home and a steady living. She would give him a child he'd gift with his last name, an offspring which hadn't been sired from his own seed, but would carry on his family name in title at least.

Rumpelstiltskin resigned himself to spinning, for he desperately needed a distraction. He knew sleeping was futile, so he might as well get some work done. The rooster would soon crow, signaling the beginning of a new day, and he and Belle would make the trip to town to see the parishioner. Afterward, they would would return home, never to spend another night alone again. She would become the center piece in his life, and he knew things would never be the same for him again.

~X~

Rumplestiltskin swallowed the hard lump in his throat as he raised his hand to knock on her door. He'd fetched fresh water from the well early that morning, taking the time to properly bathe and comb his hair. He'd donned his best tunic and breeches, made from the very fibers he'd spun. He stopped on his way to gather a bouquet of wild daffodils for her he'd spotted growing in a nearby field. Nestled deep in his pockets were twin rings he'd coaxed the blacksmith into fashioning for him out of two old keys in exchange for some thread. His breath hitched in his throat as the door opened to reveal the beauty adorned in a Spring white dress. Her hair was freshly washed and fell in silken waves down her backside. Her cheeks bloomed, enchanting him with her stunning radiance.

"You look lovely, Belle," he stammered, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her chestnut tresses.

"Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin," she flushed deeply, averting her gaze demurely.

"I brought you some flowers. I'm not sure if you like daffodils, but I thought you might," he replied, timidly handing her the bouquet.

"I can assure you they're lovely, Rumpelstiltskin. Yellow is my favorite color," she grinned, dispelling a new piece of information about herself. She gathered them into her arms. "I should find a vase to put them in. Come inside with me?" she requested, worrying her lower lip with her slightly crooked teeth, which he found held their own charm.

"Most certainly," he obliged, following after her. She rummaged through her cupboards for a glass vase. She beamed triumphantly, producing one with a small crack on the rim. She precariously ladled water from her drinking bucket into the vase, arranging her flowers neatly.

"Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin," she beamed, tiptoeing on her feet to brush a chaste kiss against his jaw. Heat emanated from her lips, filling him with gentle warmth, soothing the frayed edges of his soul.

Belle relished the way his rough stubble prickled her lips. She continuously had to remind herself their union was to be nothing more than a conventional partnership, though admiration was steadily growing in her heart for the kind spinner.

"Shall we make our way to the church?" Rumpelstiltskin inquired, offering her his arm.

"Yes, of course," she obliged, looping her arm through his, making their way out the door.

The chapel was in walking distance from Belle's hovel, a two mile trek at most. The roads were empty except for a few passing carriages. No one paid the couple any mind as they entered the church, summoning the priest to be married. Rumpelstiltskin paid the miniscule fee for their marriage license as they stood before the man dressed in long white robes. Belle shifted nervously as the priest opened his book of Holy Writ, reciting scripture she vaguely recounted hearing at some point in her life.

He grasped her hands securely in his own as they spoke the same words paupers and princes had exchanged for centuries. He clasped her hands securely in his own, soothing her wrists with his gentle ministrations. He put her mind at ease, though she was making the most crucial decision of her life. She barely knew him, yet she felt more affection for him than she ever held for her former fiance.

Rumpelstiltskin gazed gently into her blue irises as he recited his vows. "You are blood of my veins, you are bone of my bone. Yours is my body, that we may be one. Yours is my soul until our worlds end," he declared, slipping the brass band on her finger. She deserved a more extravagant ring, but he had to make do with what he had.

Belle parroted the vows he'd exchanged with her, truly feeling them within the depths of her soul. "You are blood of my veins, you are bone of my bone. Yours is my body, that we may be one. Yours is my soul until our worlds end," she declared, slipping a band which mirrored her on onto his left ring finger. The band felt heavy on his once naked finger. He never thought he'd wear a wedding band ever again, but sharing this moment with her was different than the first time. This time he felt as if it would be long standing.

They'd kissed for the first time, sealing their vows with the promise of forever. He kissed her chastely, forcing himself to quickly pull away, for fear of devouring her. Their marriage would be unlike most others because there would be no consummation.

Her lips were petal soft just as he'd imagined them. The moment he pulled away, he saw a look of longing flash within her azure depths, but he must have been mistaken. No one could ever want him like that, not even his new bride. He had to remind himself she'd only agreed to this, because she needed to provide a substantial life for her child, and he'd offered her a deal.

They walked back to the the hovel hand in hand. Rumplestiltskin opened the door to her home and shut it. They were officially husband and wife, forever bound to the other. "Well, we're home," she chuckled nervously, shifting her gaze to the empty hearth.

"Belle," he whispered her name reverently, touching her shoulder gingerly. She gazed back at him, her eyes full of hesitancy.

"Rumple..." She acknowledged him, her gaze unsteady. "May I call you that?"

"You may call me anything you like," he reassured her, relishing the new nickname she'd gifted him with.

"So, what's next?" she inquired, her eyes two twin pools of uncertainty.

"I believe we should partake of a marriage tradition which has been passed down through the ages," he spoke, grabbing two glasses. He pulled a small flask from his pocket, pouring a small amount of ale in each one.

"What custom is this?" Belle inquired, procuring the glass from his hand.

"It's customary for a husband and wife to share a drink together after being wed, " he illuminated. Rumpelstiltskin took the glass and clinked it against hers. "May we both drink freely from this cup just as we'll drink freely from each others love. May our lives always be full of joy and happiness even when our purses aren't. May we stand strong together through happiness and despair until death do us part," he recited the oath.

Belle nodded amicably. "Forever..." she resounded while her heart beat heavily. He threw back his ale, and she did the same. She wondered if he realized the verse he'd shared with her held a sacred declaration of love within its text. She opted not to bring it to his attention as he encouraged her to rest, vowing to prepare dinner for them.

Despite this joyous occasion, Belle still felt her sickness lingering in her gut. She decided to change into her nightclothes as Rumpelstiltskin picked vegetables from her garden for their supper. She crawled beneath the warm duvet.

The Spinner traipsed back into the house, finding his new wife snoozing beneath the covers. He knelt beside her pallet, dropping a kiss to her brow. She appeared so angelic, her features soft from her peaceful slumber. He could have gazed upon her for hours without ever growing disinterested, but there was stew to be made. He reluctantly rose to his feet, setting his hands to work slicing up vegetables to throw into the iron pot.

Tonight he felt nervous about eating dinner with Belle. Perhaps it was because he was twice her age and more beautiful than any woman he'd ever envisioned for himself. He arranged two place settings, awaiting for her to awaken. It had only been a day since her fever had broken, and he assumed she was still weary from her sickness. A few more minutes passed, and he heard her yawn echo throughout the hovel. He glanced over at her as she stretched, placing her hand over her mouth to stifle back another yawn.

"Something smells delicious," she commented, throwing back the covers and clamoring out of bed. His breath hitched in his throat as he observed her thin shift which barely left anything to the imagination. He tore his gaze away from her, knowing he couldn't be thinking of her in such a way.

"It's ready, take a seat," he insisted, attempting to distract himself from her alluring curves.

She padded into the kitchen, the stew assaulting her senses with its appetizing aroma. She took the spot adjacent to his. She spooned a hearty portion into her bowl, her mouth beginning to water.

"Rumple, this stew smells exquisite," she complimented, and he chuckled at her eagerness.

"Go ahead and dig in," he encouraged as he settled down in his chair. She took a generous bite of the stew, licking the excess broth from her upper lip.

"I'm glad you like it," he chuckled, placing a small portion to his lips. He blew on the broth before spooning it into his mouth. "I believe I've outdone myself this time," he chortled, utterly satisfied with how his concoction had turned out.

"You certainly have," she returned, placing her spoon in the empty bowl.

"Would you like some more?" he inquired, gesturing to her vacant bowl.

"Let's spare the rest for breakfast. I'll clean the dishes if you'd like," she insisted, gathering up their bowls and spoons.

"There's no need for that, sweetheart. Allow me," he interjected, intercepting the dishes from her. Her heart hammered in her chest, the endearment still lingering in her ears. No one had ever called her sweetheart before, not even her fiance. Her husband was an enigma she longed to unravel. She walked back towards her bed, feeling utterly spent from the day, despite her nap earlier.

"Well, the dishes are done, and the kitchen is spotless. Do you have an extra pallet?" he probed, casting her an analytical glance.

"No, I'm afraid I don't, but you could always sleep here. We are married after all," she suggested, her heart beating rapidly in her chest again. He seemed to have that affect on her.

"Are you certain because we don't-"

"But, I would like to, so are you coming to bed or not?" she inquired, patting the empty spot beside her invitingly.

"Wouldn't that make things awkward between us?" he inquired, his heartbeat a tattoo against his breast.

"Only if you make it awkward. I promise not to wander over to your side," Belle vowed, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Alright," he consented, settling down beside her. He kept his arms close to his sides out of fear of accidentally brushing against her during the night. They exchanged no other words as sleep overtook them. Rumpelstiltskin couldn't recount a night he'd slept more fitfully than the one he'd spent beside Belle.

A/AN: I hope you all enjoyed that, Dearies! I'm going to try and keep this updated weekly for you all!


	3. Chapter 3

The Spinner's Rival: Part Three

A/AN: Belle has a nightmare, and Rumple comforts hers, amongst other fluffy things. This fic will be updated bi-weekly.

As Belle thrashed violently on the pallet, Rumpelstiltskin was roused from his slumber.

"No! Please! I didn't mean to run away! I'm sorry!" Belle cried, hot tears streaming down her face. The world faded around her as she felt someone violently shaking her.

"Belle! Wake up!" it reverberated. She opened her eyes suddenly, gasping for breath as she turned towards the sound, her husband's face coming into view.

"Where am I?" she inquired, blinking owlishly.

"We're in your home. You were having a nightmare," Rumple returned, his sable eyes full of concern.

"I'm sorry for waking you. It was merely nothing," she fibbed, turning back over on her side. He reached out to her, squeezing her hip lightly. The feeling of his slender fingertips grazing her skin sent a bolt of electricity through her. She felt flushed, the tenderness of his touch eliciting something foreign within her.

"I'll understand if you don't want to talk about it, but it might make you feel better," he said, offering her a listening ear. Belle stiffened at his proposal. Truthfully, she'd been having nightmares for months now, but she didn't want to badger her new husband about them. It was nothing to get worked up about. Part of her yearned to tell him every single meaningless detail, and the other longed to crawl into her mother's lap like a frightened child, wishing for consoling words which would never come. Her parents had barred her from their lives, and she had no one to lean on but him. She carefully considered this, wondering if she should bare her heart to the man who'd graciously taken her under his wing. She had so much pain locked away within her soul, and it made her feel like a dam ready to burst.

She turned to him, smiling hesitantly. "Sometimes I dream of the night Gaston put his hands on me. His touch was so forceful, and strong whiskey emanated from his breath. I was too weak to thwart his advances. He ripped my gown, and towered over me, grunting and panting as he stole my virtue. My body felt like it was ripping in half, as well as my soul. Almost every night since then, I've dreamed of the encounter over and over again. It's why I spin so much. It takes an edge off the pain and helps me to forget. I'm like a broken doll, no one longer wants. I'm sorry you had to hear all of that, but I've had no one to tell it to for so long. You're the first person who's actually believed me," she confided in him, breaking his heart in the process.

He said nothing as he opened his arms for her. She cocooned herself comfortably within his warm embrace. Rumpelstiltskin was lithe and short, not brawny and threatening like Gaston. He was gentle and kind, and she knew he wouldn't lay a finger on her.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Belle. You deserve the finer things in life, which, honestly I cannot provide. What I can give you is a home, and someone to be your benefactor. I vow to always take care of you and your child. Life may not be easy for us, but it can be good. If we help each other, then we'll earn a decent living," he returned, nuzzling her cheek affectionately.

Warmth and contentment wove itself around her being, cradling her in its sweet embrace. As she snuggled against him, he held onto her tentatively. "You know, the moment I saw you at the market place, I yearned to know you. For the longest time, I thought you didn't like me. Every time I would wave at you, you'd always duck your head and pretend like you weren't sneaking a glance at me, but I knew better," she sniggered, giving him a half lidded gaze.

His cheeks bloomed a soft pink hue, his eyes twinkling softly beneath the flickering candlelight. "Forgive me for saying this, but, I must admit that I didn't quite fancy you at first. I've been the sole spinner in this village for years, and then, I'm presented with this pretty young lass who's starting to steal away my customers. My purse certainly felt the effects of it," he chuckled.

"So, what changed your mind?" she asked, her breath ghosting against his lips, filling him with desire.

"I didn't see you at market for nearly two weeks, and I became concerned. Despite the fact you'd upped the competition for me, it just didn't feel right without you," he expressed, his gaze turning serious. Belle hesitantly brushed her lips against his, testing the waters between them.

Despite his oath to never touch her, he couldn't bring himself to evade her advances. He cradled the back of her head gently, pouring every ounce of emotion he could muster into the kiss. She pulled away timidly, her eyes shining with intrigue.

"Belle, are you alright?" Concern flashed in his sable depths. He was too kind, and she nearly wept for his compassionate nature towards her.

"I'm fine, and I really enjoy kissing you," her cheeks turned ruddy at her admittance.

"Belle, it never has to go past that. We'll never kiss again unless you wish it," he reassured her.

"Oh, but I want to kiss you again, Rumpelstiltskin," she bit her lip wantonly, sending heat straight to his groin. He stifled back his carnal urges as she tangled her bare legs around him. She laid her head on his chest, yawning softly. He splayed his hands along her backside as she closed her eyes. Soft snuffles erupted from her throat, lulling him into a dreamless state. It was surely ironic how his former rival was slowly becoming his everything.

~X~

It had been two weeks since their nuptials. Belle's morning sickness had waned, allowing her to venture to market with her husband. Working together instead of against each other had nearly tripled their profits. He wasn't sure if it was because the town was thirsting for gossip about how their little arrangement had occurred, or if it was simply her lovely face which enthralled them. The men and their concerned wives flocked to their tiny stall to buy thread. Rumpelstiltskin allowed Belle to deal with most of the customers as long as they were respectful. He usually found no reason to intervene, and Belle did an excellent job of handling the sale's front.

It was nearing the mid-afternoon, and they'd had a decent day of sales. Rumplestilskin was about to pack up their wares when Mr. Higgins, the town locksmith stopped by. He was a large muscular man who was nearly a foot taller than Rumple. He was married to the baker's daughter and was infamous for his wandering eye. It seemed one woman just wouldn't do it for him, and unfortunately, he'd set his sights on Belle.

"Mam...I don't believe we've met. I'm Mr. Higgins, the town locksmith," the other man introduced himself, his tone grizzly.

Belle smiled politely, shuddering inwardly. This fellow reminded her too much of Gaston, and she wanted to do nothing more than be rid of him, but she must put on a good face. They needed the money after all. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Higgins. What can I do for you today?" the spintress inquired, showing him their wide array of threads.

"My wife is looking for some blue thread to sew a dress, and she asked me to stop by the market and fetch her some," he supplied, scratching his scraggly beard.

"Well, Mr. Higgins, you're in luck! We have a wide variety of blue threads. Why don't you have a look at these?" she suggested, pulling out a shade of cerulean, cobalt, and azure.

"This one will do, I suppose. How much?" he inquired as he plucked a cobalt spool of thread from her hands, pulling out a bag of coins.

"Ten shillings, sir," Belle supplied. He placed the money in her hands, and she counted out the change he'd given her. She gave him a quizzical glance."Mr. Higgins, I'm afraid you've given me too much money. There's twenty shillings here," she pointed out, handing him back the extra money.

"I was wondering what a little extra might cost me," he smirked, winking suggestively at her. Her stomach coiled tightly, the night of the attack flashing before her eyes. Rumplestiltskin stood silently in the background, listening quietly to their exchange, and he'd heard enough. He stalked towards the front, wrapping his arms around Belle's waist possessively, peering sternly over her shoulder.

"If you mean extra thread, Mr. Higgins, then ten more shillings will buy you another spool," he spoke dangerously low, his brogue bubbling over. Rumplestiltskin had always been a man of few words, and he hadn't been entirely brave during his life, but Belle drew something predatory out of him.

"Aye...I'll take another spool then," the locksmith spoke hurriedly, grabbing another spool and leaving the stall. He kneaded her thighs with his hands, planting a searing kiss on the back of her neck.

"I've never seen you act that way around anyone before," Belle stated pointedly as she watched the man scurry away from the square.

"I've never had a reason to, until now," he rumbled in her ear.

"Thank you for getting rid of him, " she sighed, relief flooding her chest, leaning into his touch.

"He needs to know his place," he hissed possessively, sending heat pooling in her belly. Something had begun to change in their relationship. They'd grown closer over the last couple of weeks, and he'd started to become more open with her when it came to displaying his affection, though it had never progressed past kissing.

"I'll never be able to tell you how grateful I am for all you do for me," she said, caressing his cheek tenderly.

"How about we load everything up and head home for the afternoon? Let's go home and count our earnings. Perhaps we'll have enough to buy you one of those books you've been eying the next time we come to town," he smiled knowingly.

"You're quite observant," she chortled musically. "Having a couple of books for my collection would be lovely since I had to leave most of them back home," she sighed despondently.

"Why don't you go ahead and pick one out? We'll make up the difference the next time we come to market," he added, placing a velvet purse of coins in her palm, and closing it gently.

"Rumple, I can't possibly accept this. There's so much we could use this money for! Books aren't a necessity, anyway," she protested, pushing the purse back into his hands.

"Nonsense! I'm saving more money since I moved into your hovel, nearly cutting all of my expenses in half. When the baby comes, we won't be able to be so spontaneous, but today, we can. Now, go!" he insisted, shooing her away from the stall.

Her heart thrummed heavily in her chest as she made her way over to the book peddler. He was an older gentleman with a long winding snowy beard. His specks hung low on his nose, and he gifted her with a sagely smile.

"How may I help you, missus,-" he paused, pining for a name.

"Belle. My name is, Belle," she curtsied formally, a habit she'd acquired as a highborn lady.

His nose wrinkled curiously at her. "And, what can I get for you today, Missus Belle?" he inquired.

"I was hoping you had something on the rather adventurous side," she wet her lips nervously, feeling utterly out of place in peasant society. Peasant women didn't read, and she knew buying books made her stick out like a sore thumb.

"I believe I have just the thing," he grinned, procuring a book from his stash. The leather was verdant, the title written in an elegant gold calligraphy.

"Her Handsome Hero," she read the title aloud, already intrigued by the cover.

"How much?" she asked, reaching for her purse.

He placed his hand over the bag to halt her. "There's no charge for your first book. If you enjoy it, then come back again and tell me how it was. However, the next will cost you," he winked, something mysterious flickering across his gaze.

"I certainly appreciate it. Thank you, Mr-"

"I'm known around these parts as the apprentice, but you may call me, Reginald," he introduced himself, and Belle couldn't help but believe there was something otherworldly about him, even magical.

"Thank you, again!" she waved, bidding him farewell. She returned to her husband's stall, the tome clutched protectively in her arms.

"Did you find anything you liked?" Rumple inquired, glancing at the book in his wife's arms.

"Yes, and would you believe, the book peddler gave it to me free of charge!" she gushed excitedly, showing him her new treasure.

"How thoughtful," the spinner smiled as she handed him back the bag of coins.

"Shall we take our leave?" he asked, assisting her onto the horse.

"Yes, I'd like to go home and curl up by the fire with some tea and my new book," she beamed exuberantly as he led them down the lane towards the hovel.

"Then I shall start on dinner while you read," he interjected as they made their way home.

"That sounds lovely," she replied, feeling utterly content with her new found life in the village. In a few short months she would give birth to their child, and their lives would be complete.

A/AN: If you're wondering, the book peddler is Merlin's apprentice. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with that tidbit yet, so your suggestions are more than welcome. Also, I haven't forgotten about your other prompts. I look forward to getting to them soon.


	4. Chapter 4

The Spinner's Rival: Part Four

A/AN: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I hope you enjoy the new chapter! Rating is going up for this chapter. There are mentions of PTSD.

 

Rumplestiltskin awoke to the feeling of his wife kicking him in the shin. She was moaning and crying in her sleep. He calmly got out of bed, gazing at her as she fought off her invisible assailant. They'd been married for three months, and her nightmares continued to increase with intensity. The midwife had explained that it could be a result of the pregnancy, but he knew it ran far deeper than that. Belle had struggled with her desire to be intimate. Her former fiancé had ruined her self-image, including the probability of them having an intimate relationship in the future. In the beginning, it was meant to be strictly platonic, but she'd opened up to him about truly wishing to live as husband and wife on all accounts, but it'd never progressed further than a discussion. Belle wasn't ready, and he wasn't sure if she ever would be.

He respired deeply, reaching out to shake her, gently. Her eyes fluttered open, pupils blown wide at her first glance at him. 

“Rumple,” she whimpered, reaching for him. 

He crawled back into bed, pulling her into his arms. “There, there, sweetheart, I'm here. It's okay, my darling, Belle,” he crooned, gently rocking her back and forth. He gazed down at her damp nightgown, the smell of urine filling his nostrils. 

Belle flushed, gazing up at him shamefully. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to,” she cried, as if she expected him to punish her. 

“It's alright, Belle. There's no need to worry. These things happen. For one you have a baby pushing on your bladder, and you just awakened from a nightmare. Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?” Rumplestiltskin remarked patiently, hoisting her into his arms. 

He sat her down in a chair facing the hearth as he stripped their bed of soiled linens. She pulled at her nightdress, tears leaking from her eyes. He placed his hand on her shoulder. Startlingly, she turned to face him. He held a clean gown in his arms, one he'd hand-tailored especially for her. 

“The bed has clean sheets. Why don't you freshen up? I didn't throw out the bath water from earlier today. Here's a cloth. Go clean yourself up, sweetheart, while I make you some tea,” he commanded.

Belle nodded slowly, stalking towards the partition which granted them privacy whenever they bathed. She dipped the cloth into the water, washing herself thoroughly. She donned on the new nightdress, quietly padding across the room to meet her husband. He handed her a mug of the herbal brew. Her hand instinctively gravitated to her belly, ripened with child. They were anticipating its arrival in the late fall. 

Belle's toes curled as the warm tea settled deep within her bones, settling her nerves. 

“Thank you for being so understanding,” she said, her body relaxing as he led her back to bed. The sheets smelled of fresh lye soap, and her heart involuntarily fluttered as the mattress dipped from his weight. He pulled her into the haven of his arms. She buried her face in his nightshirt, inhaling his comforting scent of sage and pine.

He rubbed her back consolingly until she'd fallen back asleep. The following morning, Belle awoke to a vacant bed and an empty hovel. She pushed her legs over the side of the mattress, sauntering to the window. Outside, her husband stood, watering the garden. Her heart was overwhelmed with the amount of monumental kindness he bestowed upon her, as if she deserved it or something. 

In her world, women were treated as trophies and property, but Rumplestiltskin treated her as his equal and had done so from the beginning. She blushed as she thought of his slender fingers gliding effortlessly over her body. The way he held her when they kissed made her believe he would be an attentive lover. Perhaps if she gave him access to her body, her nightmares would cease. Her only experience had been traumatizing, but would laying with him be any different? Her heart swelled with bravery as she unbuttoned her nightdress, leaving her bare except for her knickers. 

Rumpelstiltskin whistled a lively tune as he traipsed back through the door, his bucket filled with carrots and onions. “Belle I'm-”, his eyes grew wide, the bucket falling from his grasp as he beheld her partially nude form. Onions rolled at his feet, his throat becoming dry as he gaped at her. 

He lost his voice as she closed the gap between them, taking his hand and molding it to her left breast. He glanced up at her, searching her eyes for fear as he gently palmed her breast, pebbling the nipple between his fingertips. 

Belle's knees began to tremble, and she nearly buckled beneath him as hot tears cascaded down her cheeks, the night of the attack flashing within her mind. Rumpelstiltskin halted his advances, his hands gently grazing her hips, steadying her. 

“Why do you want someone so damaged? I can't even properly give myself to you, because I'm so broken,” she sobbed as he gently led her back to their bed. He swallowed hard, handing her the discarded nightdress, which she immediately covered herself with. 

“Because, I love you, my dear, Belle. You shouldn't push yourself. Healing will take time, and if we never consummate our relationship, then it won't matter a bit to me. I love you for your beautiful heart, your impressive intellect, and strong wit. I love your bottom row of slightly crooked teeth you flash when you smile really big at one of my jokes. I love the way your eyes shine when you spin, and the way you can embellish a cup of tea with ingredients I never thought of using.” Rumpelstiltskin stated, kissing her temple affectionately. 

“But, I long to be one with you...I don't want what Gaston done to ruin our future together. Please, Rumple,” she pleaded, tears misting behind her eyes. 

Rumpelstiltskin clasped her hand gently in his. “Your body is going through so many changes, Belle, for you're carrying a child. If you truly want this, then we must take it slow. You must expect it, become comfortable with me. We'll take it in stages, and you'll communicate with me and tell me what you'd like to try, but not today. Today you'll stay in bed and read your books. I'll prepare breakfast for us, and you'll relax.” 

Rumpelstiltskin got up to retrieve the scattered vegetables. Belle donned back on her nightdress, climbing back under the covers. She pulled the book the peddler had gifted her with out from under her pillow. Rumpelstiltskin had purchased her three others since then, but the first one she'd gotten had remained her favorite.

The story was about an ordinary man—turned hero. He originated from a poor village and was a peasant until the king who ruled the realm begun unfairly oppressing the people. Gideon had taken a stand and became a voice for the people, overthrowing the nefarious king, then marrying his kind daughter he'd locked away in a tower. 

Belle glanced up at her spinner husband who was currently dicing up vegetables. To many, he didn't appear to be anything special, but he was her hero, and in her heart, he was unrivaled. Belle continued to thumb through the pages, daydreaming about the man she'd come to love.

A/AN: I'm slowly but surely getting to all of these prompts. Please continue leaving them.


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